


Dark Magic

by killuatrash (Epic_F_Awesomesauce)



Series: Dark magic [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aurors, Blood, Bottom Harry, Dark Magic, Death, Drarry, M/M, Smut, and also theyre in love, hello @ sex, its just smut basically, shameless lovey dovey smut, thats it, this is just like sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 21:03:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6393673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epic_F_Awesomesauce/pseuds/killuatrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco are called in on an attack in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Magic

The truth of the matter was that, while Harry Potter did indeed cut an impressive figure—parting the crowd like a curse, quieting people with a look, leaving behind happy murmurs with a smile—he really was quite short. In fact, the top of his head barely came to Draco’s chin, and Draco wasn’t particularly tall either. Harry was about the same height as Hermione, who was about average as far as women went, meaning that they were both about 5’7”, give or take a few centimeters.

Which is why it was always such a shock to see him deep in battle, throwing nonverbal hexes and wandless curses that left blood and screams in his wake. They had both been called in long past midnight, meaning that Harry was wearing Muggle denims and t-shirt, with some weird cowl-necked, hooded, ripped apart cloak that seemed as if it was supposed to be fashionable. It ended up leaving a lot of skin and clothing showing, mostly the strong tendons and dark hair of his forearms and the strip of brown when his too-small shirt rode up during the fight.

Even with Draco concentrating on his own opponents, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from looking in Harry’s direction, as if he was magnetized to inky hair and sandy skin and the dark expression on his face. From the way he was moving, and the dark shadows under his eyes, Draco rather thought that he was almost glad of the summons, because it looked like the face of someone who had been having a nightmare. Draco knew that expression very well.

In the end, it was Harry, of course, who stopped the battle, but not in the usual way. Usually Harry was just too quick to catch, and just too skilled to avoid, or block; usually he could take down whole groups by himself, just him dancing around the room with a look on his face that had most of his attackers shuddering in fear.

Usually, though, Draco was paying more attention; usually he wasn’t so tired from having not slept in two days, and usually he was quicker and lighter on his feet. Usually someone didn’t sneak into his blind spot and hit him with a spell that made him feel like he was on fire, and usually even if he was hit he was paying enough attention that he could hold back his scream.

The spell had barely hit him before it was gone again, and when Draco scrambled up on hands and knees (when had he fallen?) he saw it was because the caster was dead. In the next couple of seconds, in between a series of flashing lights that must have been spells, most of the other enemies were dead, too, and it took Draco a hazy minute to realize that it was because of Harry. The air around the Chosen One appeared to have darkened, and there was an acrid, smoky scent in the air that burned Draco’s throat when he breathed it in, and even if he hadn’t felt dizzy before he would have felt dizzy now, because the shadows in the room seemed to have gained some sort of dimension, as if they weren’t flat and lifeless anymore, but doors that led somewhere.

In short, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived Twice, was using Dark magic that made his green eyes shine out through the shadows like an Avada Kedavra. Those who weren’t already dead or dying fled, knowing that in a matter of seconds they probably would be. Draco scrambled away too, less to get away from Harry and more to get away from the shadows that reminded him of being trapped in the Manor with Voldemort.

Harry strode over to where Draco was leaning against the wooden wall of the warehouse, splinters digging into his back. Harry’s steps made no sound, and he moved much farther with each than should have been possible. Draco knew he ought to be scared, but he was dizzy and remnants of the curse that had hit him were still running through him, causing his limbs to tremble. He desperately wanted Harry closer, Dark magic or no.

Harry crouched in front of him, reaching one hand out to touch Draco’s cheek. Draco whimpered at the feeling of Dark magic caressing his skin, and immediately the shadows pulled back from Harry’s hand, so that it was just Harry’s own warmth touching him. His fingers were rough and dry and callused, and Draco leaned his head into them eyes fluttering shut. A warmth flowed through his body, taking away the trembling left behind by the cursed, and Draco sighed.

“Are you alright?” asked Harry softly. His voice was still the same gruff tones that Draco had become used to during their time as Auror partners, but the tone was unusual, at least when directed at him; Harry never spoke like this unless it was to someone he cared about, and if they were fragile. When Draco opened his eyes, he found that the expression on Harry’s face was yearning and caring and soft and made Draco kind of feel like crying. The only reason he didn’t was that he could still see tendrils of shadow curling and furling behind his head as if affected by Harry’s worry.

“I’m fine,” Draco said, voice hoarser than he had expected. He struggled to sit up, but a firm hand on his shoulder pushed him back.

“Are you sure?” Harry’s eyes were still the shining, blazing green of an AK, and it made panic coil in Draco’s gut. Would they ever change back? Would they ever go back to the lively green he had become accustomed to?

“Put them away,” Draco said, and it came out an embarrassing whimper, but he almost didn’t care. The shadows and Darkness were making him anxious and nauseous; he just wanted back his Harry, the one who spilled takeaway curry on his t-shirt and, instead of casting a cleaning charm, tried to lick it off.

“Put what—Oh.” Harry concentrated a moment, thick brow furrowing, and the deep shadows dissipated as quickly as they had come. Draco allowed himself a moment to breathe easily, before—

“What the fuck was that, Harry,” he growled, grabbing his stupid cowl-necked robe and dragging him closer. “Dark magic? What the fuck—” And then he kissed him, because Harry’s eyes were back to the normal shade of sunlight shining through the thin skin of green leaves, because his hair was inky black instead of the sultry depth the Dark magic gave it, because Harry had seemed much taller with the shadows surrounding him, but now that they were gone Draco was reminded of just how tiny he was.

Harry sighed into his mouth and kneeled in front of him, and Draco spread his legs so that they could both fit there, uncomfortable but not enough to stop

“What would the masses say, if they could see their Chosen One murdering a dozen people with Dark magic?” Draco asked, pulling away just slightly before yanking Harry forward, cupping his face in his hands and pulling him in deep. Harry shifted closer, moving his hands from where they were pressed against the floor to Draco’s shoulders; he sighed softly when Draco’s tongue entered his mouth, tangling his own with it lazily, as if the stench of blood and battle didn’t still hang in the air.

“Draco,” Harry murmured against his open mouth, and his voice was the huffing softness Draco had come to associate with want. “Love you, Draco.”

Draco pulled away again, scowling. “Don’t you ‘love me’, you stupid berk, Dark magic is dangerous and illegal and I think they’d even cart the Chosen One off to Azkaban if they found evidence of you using it.”

Harry just stared back unabashedly, green eyes wide and owlish in a way that Draco had only ever seen them right before sex. After a mission, it was usually inevitable that they fucked, either to rid themselves of the adrenaline or to remind themselves that they were both alive, and Draco knew this time wouldn’t be any different.

“Love you, Draco,” he repeated, nuzzling into Draco’s cheek, against his mouth, and he sighed and gave in, letting Harry position him where he willed, touch him where he willed, though he kept his hands cupping Harry’s face so that he couldn’t never pull completely away. His heart was still pounding in his chest, echoing loudly in his ears; there had been a moment, just a split second before Harry banished it, when Draco had thought that he’d lost Harry to the Dark. He never wanted to lose him again.

“Want you, Draco,” Harry murmured, cupping Draco through his trousers, and Draco mumbled back his assent with a series of meaningless sounds and thrust up into Harry’s hand, and that was all Harry needed. He undid the clasp of Draco’s trousers and yanked them down and his cock out before fisting it. His callused hands brought forth too much friction, and Draco squirmed only once before Harry murmured a wandless lubrication charm. Draco moaned at the slick-hot-wet feeling and leaned back against the warehouse wall, aware that this was almost the worst place they could be doing this (there were even some criminals out there, still!) but not caring.

“Harry,” he breathed, and the soft huff of air was all Draco needed to know that he was enjoying this, too. Harry was always so quiet that in the beginning Draco had nearly missed his interest, because small familiar touches and tiny huffing breaths and barely-there smiles were not actions that Draco associated with want, especially not in the context of Harry Potter and their years of bitter, heated rivalry. He had rather expected Harry to take him roughly against a wall, not kiss him softly for hours and murmur sleepy, sweet things in his ear that had Draco coming undone, trembling and weak and overflowing with the feeling of being loved. That’s who Harry was, beneath it all; soft and sweet and gentle and precious and very, very quiet.

Harry gently stroked him from root to tip, then flicked a finger across the head in a way that had Draco’s breath catching in his throat.

“Feels good?” he breathed, and did it again. “You like it?” This was Harry’s version of dirty talk; seeking out the things that made Draco catch his breath and doing them until he was almost desensitized, then leaving him alone long enough that when he did it again his breath caught once more.

“I—yes, Harry, I—” Draco stammered, then moaned as Harry flicked his finger across him again, thumbing his slit in a way that made him squirm.

“Ready for me?” breathed Harry against the skin of Draco’s jaw. He sucked the lobe of Draco’s ear into his mouth, and Draco’s moan was breathy and embarrassing but he didn’t care.

“Yes, yes, yes, Harry, yes—” Draco panted, starting to lose himself in the heady feeling that came whenever they had sex. Being the sole focus of Harry’s attention was like breathing in amortentia’s fumes, and it made everything else in the world seem blurry and out of focus.

“Good,” said Harry, and he moved his hot-wet-firm hand away from Draco’s cock so that he could unbutton his denims and slip them off. He straddled Draco’s lap, then pulled once again on Draco’s cock to coat his hand once more in lube before reaching behind himself. Draco watched Harry open himself up, long lashes fluttering about green eyes. Draco reached up and pulled away Harry’s glasses, loving the hazy yearning he saw there. He was pulling on Harry’s cock before he could even really think about what he was doing, and reaching back to Harry’s slick entrance so that he could feel his fingers pressing in and out of himself. His breathing turned uneven and his cock twitched as he felt Harry’s anus stretching around his own slick fingers.

“Feels good?” Draco asked, only slightly teasing, pressing his own finger into Harry and delighting in the tiny whimper the action produced. 

“Draco,” panted Harry. “Love you, Draco, need you, please.”

Draco shuddered, then yanked Harry’s fingers out and pulled him forward, pushing him down onto his cock ever so slowly. Harry whimpered again as he stretched over the head of Draco’s cock, and Draco kissed him as he eased him down.

“Feels good?” Draco asked again. Harry panted and nodded fervently, settling his head on Draco’s shoulder and inhaling, skin pressed to the place where Draco’s neck met his shoulder. Then, all of a sudden, he pushed himself down, pressing the full length of Draco’s cock into his body. He let out a gasping cry, and Draco moaned, settling his hands on Harry’s arse without ever thinking about it, guiding him forward until they were rutting against each other, Harry panting into his shoulder and Draco pressing soft kisses against Harry’s neck.

Harry shifted a little, and then next time Draco moved up Harry let out a breathy moan that meant he’d hit his prostate, so Draco thrust up again and Harry squirmed, throwing his head back and making a sort of mewling noise that had Draco clutching harder at his arse, digging fingers in so they would bruise. He pulled Harry down at the same time he thrust up and Harry made the noise again, fainter now as he was panting for breath.

“Draco, Draco, yes, Draco, please,” whimpered Harry, leaning in again to pant into his ear. “Draco please, fuck me good, Draco, love you, please.”

Draco pulled him close and kissed him again, open-mouthed and filthy, and thrust and thrust against Harry’s prostate until he was a squirming, mumbling, panting mess, and then he said, “Harry, come for me, Harry, love you, come for me,” and Harry came with a cry, shuddering as he emptied himself all over his own tatty t-shirt. Harry was still shuddering when he pressed himself further against Draco, licking into his mouth before saying, “Come inside me, Draco, love to feel your come in me, love it dripping down my thighs, Draco, love you, Draco—” and Draco came suddenly, so hard he whited out for a moment. When he came back to himself Harry was peppering tiny kisses across his face, against his cheeks and forehead and nose and mouth, mouth, mouth, his breath hot. He pulled away slightly so that he could smile down at Draco, fondness softening his rough features.

“Love you, Draco,” he said. Draco smiled back. 

“Love you, Harry,” he whispered. Harry beamed at him, then kissed him again, long and slow, before getting to his feet and casting cleaning charms across his clothes, redressing himself so that they could call headquarters. He picked his glasses up off the floor where Draco had put them and rubbed the lens with his t-shirt before putting them back on. Draco forced himself to his feet, too, though his legs were a little wobbly and he had to lean against the wall.

“Harry,” Draco called as Harry turned to pick his way across the minefield of corpses. “No more Dark magic.”

Harry eyed him curiously. “Or what?”

Draco raised his eyebrows, thinking of a worthy punishment that he could give up easily. “I won’t hold your hand in public anymore.”

Harry’s face fell for a moment, and then he sighed and nodded. “I won’t practice it anymore, but sometimes I can’t control it, like when I think you’re hurt or in trouble. It just comes out.”

Draco felt his resolve soften, but tried not to show it. “You have to try. I’ll be alright. I promised, remember?”

“You promised you’ll be alright?” Harry said, with fake confusion. He knew what Draco had promised, but he liked to hear it again and again.

“I promised I wouldn’t leave you, Harry,” he murmured, stepping closer. When they hugged, it was so easy to tuck Harry’s head against his chin and run his hands through the inky black mess of hair. Harry really was so small, and he tucked himself against Draco’s body as if he was something that needed protecting, and not someone who could destroy an entire city if the mood struck him. He could ignore the magic that thrummed through Harry’s veins like Muggle electricity when they hugged, focusing instead on the feather-soft hair tickling his chin and the way Harry would be stiff, for a couple moments, and then sigh and melt into him as if he’d been holding himself like that for too long and it took effort for him to relax.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s neck, then kissed him again, close-mouthed and chaste. “I’m calling the Ministry. Then we can go home and sleep.”

“Yours or mine?” asked Draco, running fingers through Harry’s soft hair.

“Yours,” said Harry. “I don’t want to go back home.”

Draco hummed his assent, then kissed him one more time, unable to resist. “Love you, Harry.”

“Love you, Draco,” Harry replied, smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> ya so this was just smut and thats it but i hope to write more drarry someday soon lol comments and kudos are so appreciated!!! i may be convinced to write more from this au if yall like it haha so tell me if u do. and i have a tumblr url is dcrao! i also might be accepting drarry prompts (if writers block allow) so if ur interested tell me!


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